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    <title>1. CHAPTER XI</title>
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    <div class="chapter" id="id1035611"><h2>1. CHAPTER XI</h2>


<p id="id1035617"><span id="id119146"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->

It may be possible to do without dancing entirely.  Instances have
been known of young people passing many, many months successively,
without being at any ball of any description, and no material injury
accrue either to body or mind;—but when a beginning is made—
when the felicities of rapid motion have once been, though slightly,
felt—it must be a very heavy set that does not ask for more.
</p>

<p id="id1035620"><span id="id119157"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Frank Churchill had danced once at Highbury, and longed to dance again;
and the last half-hour of an evening which Mr. Woodhouse was persuaded
to spend with his daughter at Randalls, was passed by the two young
people in schemes on the subject.  Frank’s was the first idea;
and his the greatest zeal in pursuing it; for the lady was the best
judge of the difficulties, and the most solicitous for accommodation
and appearance.  But still she had inclination enough for shewing
people again how delightfully Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss
Woodhouse danced—for doing that in which she need not blush to compare
herself with Jane Fairfax—and even for simple dancing itself,
without any of the wicked aids of vanity—to assist him first
in pacing out the room they were in to see what it could be made
to hold—and then in taking the dimensions of the other parlour,
in the hope of discovering, in spite of all that Mr. Weston could
say of their exactly equal size, that it was a little the largest.
</p>

<p id="id1035625"><span id="id119154"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
His first proposition and request, that the dance begun at Mr. Cole’s
should be finished there—that the same party should be collected,
and the same musician engaged, met with the readiest acquiescence. 
Mr. Weston entered into the idea with thorough enjoyment,
and Mrs. Weston most willingly undertook to play as long as they
could wish to dance; and the interesting employment had followed,
of reckoning up exactly who there would be, and portioning out the
indispensable division of space to every couple.
</p>

<p id="id1035628"><span id="id119169"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“You and Miss Smith, and Miss Fairfax, will be three, and the two
Miss Coxes five,” had been repeated many times over.  “And there
will be the two Gilberts, young Cox, my father, and myself,
besides Mr. Knightley.  Yes, that will be quite enough for pleasure. 
You and Miss Smith, and Miss Fairfax, will be three, and the two Miss
Coxes five; and for five couple there will be plenty of room.”
</p>

<p id="id1035631"><span id="id119174"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
But soon it came to be on one side,
</p>

<p id="id1035634"><span id="id119181"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“But will there be good room for five couple?—I really do not think
there will.”
</p>

<p id="id1035642"><span id="id119191"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
On another,
</p>

<p id="id1035645"><span id="id119198"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“And after all, five couple are not enough to make it worth
while to stand up.  Five couple are nothing, when one thinks
seriously about it.  It will not do to invite five couple. 
It can be allowable only as the thought of the moment.”
</p>

<p id="id1035652"><span id="id119213"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Somebody said that Miss Gilbert was expected at her brother’s,
and must be invited with the rest.  Somebody else believed
Mrs. Gilbert would have danced the other evening, if she had
been asked.  A word was put in for a second young Cox; and at last,
Mr. Weston naming one family of cousins who must be included,
and another of very old acquaintance who could not be left out,
it became a certainty that the five couple would be at least ten,
and a very interesting speculation in what possible manner they
could be disposed of.
</p>

<p id="id1035655"><span id="id119219"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
The doors of the two rooms were just opposite each other. 
“Might not they use both rooms, and dance across the passage?” 
It seemed the best scheme; and yet it was not so good but that
many of them wanted a better.  Emma said it would be awkward;
Mrs. Weston was in distress about the supper; and Mr. Woodhouse
opposed it earnestly, on the score of health.  It made him so
very unhappy, indeed, that it could not be persevered in.
</p>

<p id="id1035658"><span id="id119226"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Oh! no,” said he; “it would be the extreme of imprudence. 
I could not bear it for Emma!—Emma is not strong.  She would
catch a dreadful cold.  So would poor little Harriet. 
So you would all.  Mrs. Weston, you would be quite laid up;
do not let them talk of such a wild thing.  Pray do not let them
talk of it.  That young man (speaking lower) is very thoughtless. 
Do not tell his father, but that young man is not quite the thing. 
He has been opening the doors very often this evening, and keeping
them open very inconsiderately.  He does not think of the draught. 
I do not mean to set you against him, but indeed he is not quite
the thing!”
</p>

<p id="id1035662"><span id="id119232"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Mrs. Weston was sorry for such a charge.  She knew the importance
of it, and said every thing in her power to do it away.  Every door
was now closed, the passage plan given up, and the first scheme
of dancing only in the room they were in resorted to again;
and with such good-will on Frank Churchill’s part, that the space
which a quarter of an hour before had been deemed barely sufficient
for five couple, was now endeavoured to be made out quite enough
for ten.
</p>

<p id="id1035666"><span id="id119239"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“We were too magnificent,” said he.  “We allowed unnecessary room. 
Ten couple may stand here very well.”
</p>

<p id="id1035674"><span id="id119250"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Emma demurred.  “It would be a crowd—a sad crowd; and what could
be worse than dancing without space to turn in?”
</p>

<p id="id1035681"><span id="id119261"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Very true,” he gravely replied; “it was very bad.”  But still he
went on measuring, and still he ended with,
</p>

<p id="id1035688"><span id="id119271"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“I think there will be very tolerable room for ten couple.”
</p>

<p id="id1035664"><span id="id119280"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“No, no,” said she, “you are quite unreasonable.  It would be dreadful
to be standing so close!  Nothing can be farther from pleasure
than to be dancing in a crowd—and a crowd in a little room!”
</p>

<p id="id1035701"><span id="id119293"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“There is no denying it,” he replied.  “I agree with you exactly. 
A crowd in a little room—Miss Woodhouse, you have the art of giving
pictures in a few words.  Exquisite, quite exquisite!—Still, however,
having proceeded so far, one is unwilling to give the matter up. 
It would be a disappointment to my father—and altogether—I do
not know that—I am rather of opinion that ten couple might stand
here very well.”
</p>

<p id="id1035704"><span id="id119300"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Emma perceived that the nature of his gallantry was a little
self-willed, and that he would rather oppose than lose the pleasure
of dancing with her; but she took the compliment, and forgave
the rest.  Had she intended ever to marry him, it might have been
worth while to pause and consider, and try to understand the value
of his preference, and the character of his temper; but for
all the purposes of their acquaintance, he was quite amiable enough.
</p>

<p id="id1035694"><span id="id119315"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Before the middle of the next day, he was at Hartfield; and he entered
the room with such an agreeable smile as certified the continuance
of the scheme.  It soon appeared that he came to announce an improvement.
</p>

<p id="id1035711"><span id="id119325"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Well, Miss Woodhouse,” he almost immediately began, “your inclination
for dancing has not been quite frightened away, I hope, by the
terrors of my father’s little rooms.  I bring a new proposal
on the subject:—a thought of my father’s, which waits only your
approbation to be acted upon.  May I hope for the honour of your
hand for the two first dances of this little projected ball,
to be given, not at Randalls, but at the Crown Inn?”
</p>

<p id="id1035720"><span id="id119332"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“The Crown!”
</p>

<p id="id1035722"><span id="id119340"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Yes; if you and Mr. Woodhouse see no objection, and I trust you cannot,
my father hopes his friends will be so kind as to visit him there. 
Better accommodations, he can promise them, and not a less grateful
welcome than at Randalls.  It is his own idea.  Mrs. Weston sees
no objection to it, provided you are satisfied.  This is what we
all feel.  Oh! you were perfectly right!  Ten couple, in either of
the Randalls rooms, would have been insufferable!—Dreadful!—I felt
how right you were the whole time, but was too anxious for securing
any thing to like to yield.  Is not it a good exchange?—You consent—
I hope you consent?”
</p>

<p id="id1035726"><span id="id119347"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“It appears to me a plan that nobody can object to, if Mr. and
Mrs. Weston do not.  I think it admirable; and, as far as I can
answer for myself, shall be most happy—It seems the only improvement
that could be.  Papa, do you not think it an excellent improvement?”
</p>

<p id="id1035724"><span id="id119353"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
She was obliged to repeat and explain it, before it was fully
comprehended; and then, being quite new, farther representations
were necessary to make it acceptable.
</p>

<p id="id1035732"><span id="id119363"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“No; he thought it very far from an improvement—a very bad plan—
much worse than the other.  A room at an inn was always damp
and dangerous; never properly aired, or fit to be inhabited. 
If they must dance, they had better dance at Randalls.  He had never
been in the room at the Crown in his life—did not know the people
who kept it by sight.—Oh! no—a very bad plan.  They would catch
worse colds at the Crown than anywhere.”
</p>

<p id="id1035741"><span id="id119370"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“I was going to observe, sir,” said Frank Churchill,
“that one of the great recommendations of this change would
be the very little danger of any body’s catching cold—
so much less danger at the Crown than at Randalls!  Mr. Perry
might have reason to regret the alteration, but nobody else could.”
</p>

<p id="id1035739"><span id="id119377"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Sir,“ said Mr. Woodhouse, rather warmly, ”you are very much
mistaken if you suppose Mr. Perry to be that sort of character. 
Mr. Perry is extremely concerned when any of us are ill.  But I
do not understand how the room at the Crown can be safer for you
than your father’s house.“
</p>

<p id="id1035751"><span id="id119384"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“From the very circumstance of its being larger, sir.  We shall have
no occasion to open the windows at all—not once the whole evening;
and it is that dreadful habit of opening the windows, letting in cold
air upon heated bodies, which (as you well know, sir) does the mischief.”
</p>

<p id="id1035745"><span id="id119390"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Open the windows!—but surely, Mr. Churchill, nobody would think
of opening the windows at Randalls.  Nobody could be so imprudent! 
I never heard of such a thing.  Dancing with open windows!—I am sure,
neither your father nor Mrs. Weston (poor Miss Taylor that was)
would suffer it.”
</p>

<p id="id1035754"><span id="id119397"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Ah! sir—but a thoughtless young person will sometimes step behind
a window-curtain, and throw up a sash, without its being suspected. 
I have often known it done myself.”
</p>

<p id="id1035757"><span id="id119410"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Have you indeed, sir?—Bless me!  I never could have supposed it. 
But I live out of the world, and am often astonished at what I hear. 
However, this does make a difference; and, perhaps, when we come
to talk it over—but these sort of things require a good deal
of consideration.  One cannot resolve upon them in a hurry. 
If Mr. and Mrs. Weston will be so obliging as to call here one morning,
we may talk it over, and see what can be done.”
</p>

<p id="id1035766"><span id="id119416"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“But, unfortunately, sir, my time is so limited—”
</p>

<p id="id1035753"><span id="id119425"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Oh!“ interrupted Emma, ”there will be plenty of time for talking
every thing over.  There is no hurry at all.  If it can be contrived
to be at the Crown, papa, it will be very convenient for the horses. 
They will be so near their own stable.“
</p>

<p id="id1035779"><span id="id119432"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“So they will, my dear.  That is a great thing.  Not that James
ever complains; but it is right to spare our horses when we can. 
If I could be sure of the rooms being thoroughly aired—but is
Mrs. Stokes to be trusted?  I doubt it.  I do not know her,
even by sight.”
</p>

<p id="id1035782"><span id="id119438"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“I can answer for every thing of that nature, sir, because it will
be under Mrs. Weston’s care.  Mrs. Weston undertakes to direct
the whole.”
</p>

<p id="id1035790"><span id="id119449"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“There, papa!—Now you must be satisfied—Our own dear Mrs. Weston,
who is carefulness itself.  Do not you remember what Mr. Perry said,
so many years ago, when I had the measles?  ‘If Miss Taylor undertakes
to wrap Miss Emma up, you need not have any fears, sir.’  How often
have I heard you speak of it as such a compliment to her!”
</p>

<p id="id1035794"><span id="id119456"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Aye, very true.  Mr. Perry did say so.  I shall never forget it. 
Poor little Emma!  You were very bad with the measles; that is,
you would have been very bad, but for Perry’s great attention. 
He came four times a day for a week.  He said, from the first,
it was a very good sort—which was our great comfort; but the measles
are a dreadful complaint.  I hope whenever poor Isabella’s little ones
have the measles, she will send for Perry.”
</p>

<p id="id1035797"><span id="id119463"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“My father and Mrs. Weston are at the Crown at this moment,”
said Frank Churchill, “examining the capabilities of the house. 
I left them there and came on to Hartfield, impatient for your opinion,
and hoping you might be persuaded to join them and give your advice
on the spot.  I was desired to say so from both.  It would be the
greatest pleasure to them, if you could allow me to attend you there. 
They can do nothing satisfactorily without you.”
</p>

<p id="id1035772"><span id="id119469"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Emma was most happy to be called to such a council; and her father,
engaging to think it all over while she was gone, the two young
people set off together without delay for the Crown.  There were
Mr. and Mrs. Weston; delighted to see her and receive her approbation,
very busy and very happy in their different way; she, in some
little distress; and he, finding every thing perfect.
</p>

<p id="id1035804"><span id="id119483"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Emma,“ said she, ”this paper is worse than I expected. 
Look! in places you see it is dreadfully dirty; and the wainscot
is more yellow and forlorn than any thing I could have imagined.“
</p>

<p id="id1035801"><span id="id119496"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“My dear, you are too particular,” said her husband.  “What does
all that signify?  You will see nothing of it by candlelight. 
It will be as clean as Randalls by candlelight.  We never see any
thing of it on our club-nights.”
</p>

<p id="id1035820"><span id="id119511"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
The ladies here probably exchanged looks which meant, “Men never
know when things are dirty or not;” and the gentlemen perhaps
thought each to himself, “Women will have their little nonsenses
and needless cares.”
</p>

<p id="id1035827"><span id="id119526"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
One perplexity, however, arose, which the gentlemen did not disdain. 
It regarded a supper-room.  At the time of the ballroom’s being built,
suppers had not been in question; and a small card-room adjoining,
was the only addition.  What was to be done?  This card-room would
be wanted as a card-room now; or, if cards were conveniently voted
unnecessary by their four selves, still was it not too small for
any comfortable supper?  Another room of much better size might be
secured for the purpose; but it was at the other end of the house,
and a long awkward passage must be gone through to get at it. 
This made a difficulty.  Mrs. Weston was afraid of draughts
for the young people in that passage; and neither Emma nor the
gentlemen could tolerate the prospect of being miserably crowded
at supper.
</p>

<p id="id1035830"><span id="id119534"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Mrs. Weston proposed having no regular supper; merely sandwiches,
&amp;c., set out in the little room; but that was scouted as a
wretched suggestion.  A private dance, without sitting down to supper,
was pronounced an infamous fraud upon the rights of men and women;
and Mrs. Weston must not speak of it again.  She then took another
line of expediency, and looking into the doubtful room, observed,
</p>

<p id="id1035832"><span id="id119539"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“I do not think it is so very small.  We shall not be many,
you know.”
</p>

<p id="id1035845"><span id="id119549"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
And Mr. Weston at the same time, walking briskly with long steps
through the passage, was calling out,
</p>

<p id="id1035853"><span id="id119557"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“You talk a great deal of the length of this passage, my dear. 
It is a mere nothing after all; and not the least draught from
the stairs.”
</p>

<p id="id1035861"><span id="id119568"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“I wish,” said Mrs. Weston, “one could know which arrangement our
guests in general would like best.  To do what would be most generally
pleasing must be our object—if one could but tell what that would be.”
</p>

<p id="id1035869"><span id="id119582"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Yes, very true,” cried Frank, “very true.  You want your neighbours’
opinions.  I do not wonder at you.  If one could ascertain what the
chief of them—the Coles, for instance.  They are not far off. 
Shall I call upon them?  Or Miss Bates?  She is still nearer.—
And I do not know whether Miss Bates is not as likely to understand
the inclinations of the rest of the people as any body.  I think
we do want a larger council.  Suppose I go and invite Miss Bates
to join us?”
</p>

<p id="id1035872"><span id="id119589"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Well—if you please,” said Mrs. Weston rather hesitating, “if you
think she will be of any use.”
</p>

<p id="id1035879"><span id="id119599"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“You will get nothing to the purpose from Miss Bates,” said Emma. 
“She will be all delight and gratitude, but she will tell you nothing. 
She will not even listen to your questions.  I see no advantage in
consulting Miss Bates.”
</p>

<p id="id1035887"><span id="id119613"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“But she is so amusing, so extremely amusing!  I am very fond
of hearing Miss Bates talk.  And I need not bring the whole family,
you know.”
</p>

<p id="id1035848"><span id="id119625"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Here Mr. Weston joined them, and on hearing what was proposed,
gave it his decided approbation.
</p>

<p id="id1035901"><span id="id119634"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Aye, do, Frank.—Go and fetch Miss Bates, and let us end the matter
at once.  She will enjoy the scheme, I am sure; and I do not know
a properer person for shewing us how to do away difficulties. 
Fetch Miss Bates.  We are growing a little too nice.  She is
a standing lesson of how to be happy.  But fetch them both. 
Invite them both.”
</p>

<p id="id1035905"><span id="id119641"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Both sir!  Can the old lady?” . . .
</p>

<p id="id1035909"><span id="id119649"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“The old lady!  No, the young lady, to be sure.  I shall think you
a great blockhead, Frank, if you bring the aunt without the niece.”
</p>

<p id="id1035918"><span id="id119661"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Oh!  I beg your pardon, sir.  I did not immediately recollect. 
Undoubtedly if you wish it, I will endeavour to persuade them both.” 
And away he ran.
</p>

<p id="id1035925"><span id="id119672"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Long before he reappeared, attending the short, neat, brisk-moving aunt,
and her elegant niece,—Mrs. Weston, like a sweet-tempered
woman and a good wife, had examined the passage again,
and found the evils of it much less than she had supposed before—
indeed very trifling; and here ended the difficulties of decision. 
All the rest, in speculation at least, was perfectly smooth. 
All the minor arrangements of table and chair, lights and music,
tea and supper, made themselves; or were left as mere trifles
to be settled at any time between Mrs. Weston and Mrs. Stokes.—
Every body invited, was certainly to come; Frank had already written
to Enscombe to propose staying a few days beyond his fortnight,
which could not possibly be refused.  And a delightful dance it was
to be.
</p>

<p id="id1035929"><span id="id119681"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Most cordially, when Miss Bates arrived, did she agree that it must. 
As a counsellor she was not wanted; but as an approver, (a much
safer character,) she was truly welcome.  Her approbation, at once
general and minute, warm and incessant, could not but please;
and for another half-hour they were all walking to and fro,
between the different rooms, some suggesting, some attending,
and all in happy enjoyment of the future.  The party did not break
up without Emma’s being positively secured for the two first dances
by the hero of the evening, nor without her overhearing Mr. Weston
whisper to his wife, “He has asked her, my dear.  That’s right. 
I knew he would!”
</p>



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